


Next Chapter

by gingergallifreyan



Series: Giac x Hannah [2]
Category: Casanova (UK), Secret Diary of a Call Girl (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Minor appearances from crossover characters, Oral, Romance, Smut, Teninch, modern!Giac, smut against a wall, some swears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingergallifreyan/pseuds/gingergallifreyan
Summary: Set immediately after Series 4 of Secret Diary of a Call Girl.Hannah needs a friend after her rocky break up with Ben, so she calls the male escort she'd visited while she researched for her never-published second book, Casanova. He turns out to be far more than she bargained for in the end.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really super love the idea of Giacomo and Hannah together for reasons I hope are evident through this fic. I have been working on this for months since I saw Secret Diary for the first time last summer. I was super pissed off at the ending of series 4, and I needed a Tennant that could fix it. Giac seemed to fit best for what I wanted to do with Hannah's character. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Just a heads up, I may change the title in the future.

Hannah unlocked the door to her house and collapsed on the sofa. She laid there for a while, her thoughts descending into self-loathing and dark places.

How could she have _possibly_ fucked this up again?

She needed to get out of her head. Who could she speak to, though? The only person she could really confide in was Bambi, but she’d hardly spoken to her since her wedding, and it was so late in the evening. But even if Bambi would be with her in a heartbeat, she didn’t want to talk to someone she knew, who knew her. She needed a break from her life.

One person came to mind. Someone she’d met once, the escort she’d booked when she needed to research for her book, Casanova. She’d rolled her eyes when she’d come across his name the first time, but he was genuinely a great guy. Professional. Proud of his work, and with good reason, and more than happy to… ehm, demonstrate for her research. The _perfect_ shag, really. Funny, warm. Good looking, too. Piercing, electric blue gaze, she remembered.

She turned her phone in her hands a few times and sniffed. 01:42am, the clock read. He probably wasn’t even awake. She found his name in her contacts anyway.

–

He was lying on his couch, watching some late night historical documentary. To his surprise, his work mobile vibrated. _Belle,_ the caller ID told him.

Belle, the escort who’d been writing a book. Gorgeous, amber eyes. Yes, he remembered her well. One of his best sessions in a long time.

Why was she calling him after midnight? Maybe she was having an emergency and she didn’t have anyone else to call? Maybe she needed a good shag, an itch he could scratch for her (and certainly wouldn't mind, seeing as how enjoyable the first time was)?

At any rate, he answered it. “Belle! Been forever since I've heard from you. I was starting to think I was less than satisfactory after all.”

She sniffed, and her voice strained. “Can I see you?” Had she been crying?

“Ehm, sure. What’s wrong?”

“I just need someone to talk to.”

“Yeah, come on over.”

“Even at this hour? You’re sure?”

“I’m not really doing anything. I had a late client, left a little while ago.”

“I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Fine. I’ll be waiting.”

“Are you sure it’s alright?”

“Of course it is. I’ll make us both a cuppa, no problem. Just ring in and I’ll let you right up.”

She took a quick shower and changed into something more casual.

—

“Here.” She handed him the envelope. She wore jeans and an oversized sweater. She’d obviously been crying, but she was still as beautiful as he’d remembered.

He hesitated. “Thanks." He should have communicated more clearly that he didn’t need her to pay him. She’d called because she needed an ear, not an escort.

Her lip trembled and she turned to sob. “I'm sorry.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “No, no, don't be.”

“It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“My life, it’s out of control. I can’t–I can’t anymore.”

“Come here. Tell me all about it.” He guided her over to his bed. “Want that cuppa?”

She nodded and sat against the headboard.

He returned with their mugs to join her. “Alright, Belle, tell me all about it.” He held out some tissues.

She shared everything, how she’d fucked up with Ben, how it ended with Duncan. Even a little about Alex. As she spoke, she eventually curled into his side.

“Men,” he offered as he put his arm around her.

“I know.”

“I'm sorry. We’re complete rubbish.”

She covered her eyes with her arm. “Why can’t I get it right? Why can't I change?”

“Why do you need to?”

“I like what I do.”

The corner of his lips turned up. “Me, too.”

She lifted her arm, a revelation lighting her eyes. “Why am I always the one who has to change?”

He nodded and smiled even wider. “That’s a great question.”

She looked at him and sat up. “Why do I always have to sacrifice myself for other people to be happy?”

“I don’t think you should. Anybody who asks you to isn’t good enough for you.” He rolled onto his side, resting his head on his hand. “By the way, how is that book coming along?”

“Book?”

“The one you were writing when you came to see me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I stopped writing it. Once I'd broken it off with Duncan there wasn’t any point.”

He nodded. “Ah.”

“I did write about you after all, though.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah. It was good. Probably the best chapter in the whole book.”

“Better be. It’s a shame nobody else will get to read it.”

“See, I thought all male escorts used Viagra.”

He preened, carding a hand through his hair. “I don't really need it.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just that good.”

“No, really. Why not?”

“If you really understand how a woman works, you can make her sing without hitting it home every time. It’s all about pacing. And I’ve been blessed with a very short refractory period. Good genes, I suppose.”

She laughed. “You taught me things about myself. I thought I knew everything there was to know about sex.”

“I could, ehm--" He cleared his throat. "Teach you more, if you like? You've got time, since you paid for it.”

She smiled. “Sex fixes everything, doesn't it? That’s why we do this.”

“It would at least make you forget for awhile.”

“Alright.” She laid down next to him.

He reached down and popped the button on her jeans with one hand, smirking as her breath hitched when that hand traveled up her sweater. “Was there anything you liked when you last saw me? Anything that felt good in particular to you?”

“I can think of a number of things.”

He grinned. “Save the best for last.”

\--

She finished toweling off after her shower. “Thank you. That really helped.”

The corner of his lips turned up. “Feel better, do you?”

“Yeah.” She looked around for her clothes.

“Hey, it’s really late. You don’t need to leave if you don’t want to.”

She shimmied into her jeans and said, “It’s just best if I go back to my house.”

“Seriously, you can stay if you want, Belle. I’ll take the couch. One escort to another, no strings attached.”

She looked at him, the warmth gone from her eyes. “If it’s all the same, I’d like to go home.”

“Sorry,” he said quietly and dressed himself. “Can I walk you somewhere?”

She hooked her bra and pulled her jumper over her head. “I’m not made of glass, alright? I’ll just call a cab and wait in the lobby for it to pull up.”

He nodded silently.

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be rude.”

“I understand.”

“Thanks again.” She walked to the door and let herself out.

In spite of the exchange, he hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her. He was sure he’d like her, even as a friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is booked for a work do, but she’s not expecting an appearance by a certain male escort, and then she's booked with a client who wants to take her to the opera, of all places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some smutz! Also shout out to Billie for Carlos Carlos.
> 
> [Belle’s dress](https://www.ericdress.com/product/Ericdress-Off-The-Shoulder-Mermaid-Short-Sleeves-Split-Front-Evening-Dress-12978543.html) in the second part of the fic. 
> 
> Also for the second half, the duet, [La ci darem la mano](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJnJjpMdT3Y) from _Don Giovanni._ I love this version because of the close ups on the actors and the English subtitles.

The next Friday night, Belle was booked to attend a party with a client. He’d wanted a woman to take to a work do and then to have some fun after.

She saw him from across the room, Casanova. He’d been watching her, she knew, because his confident gaze never faltered when she noticed him, nor did he approach her. In spite of her panic at seeing another escort in public, she half-smiled.

He gave her that cute little smirk of his and pointed at the man she was with.

She nodded at her client, who was preoccupied with some conversation she didn’t care for with his colleagues.

He scrunched up his nose and held up his thumb and forefinger a small length apart, glancing at it.

Was that… yeah, he was poking fun at her client’s manhood. She snorted and asked him how he knew.

He’d fucked the man’s wife.

She nearly lost it and had to set down her drink.

He asked if she wanted to go with him.

She couldn’t leave her client.

He jutted out his bottom lip in a pout.

She asked him who he was with.

He was by himself and told her to call him.

She shrugged. Everything within her screamed she shouldn’t. She returned her attention to her client.

Later that evening, she was professional, of course, but she could hardly shake away the memory of his blue eyes boring into her. 

–

Her work mobile rang the next Friday morning. “What, Stephanie?” She cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder as she continued painting her toenails.

“New client. Calls himself Carlos Carlos, wants to take you to the opera. Yes, I can practically hear you rolling your eyes.”

“I didn’t run your business for you to force me into an opera night.” Her chest tightened at the memory of the last time she went, when she was with Duncan. What a mess that had turned out to be.

“I know, and I tried to convince him otherwise because I know how much you hate those, but he insisted on you, and he offered far above what I'd told him your rate was. That includes a shopping trip for you. I made sure he threw in a pair of new shoes and a guarantee he’d book the poshest hotel. He was more than happy to oblige.”

She stopped the brush mid-air. “Really? How much?”

“One thousand pounds. Your appointment at the department store is at two. I’m told he’s already made a few selections. You just need to make a decision.”

“But I already have a client lined up for the evening.”

“And I passed him to someone else. You can’t really turn down this kind of offer.”

Belle called for a cab after she finished grooming, and when she arrived at the department store, an attendant greeted and escorted her to a private fitting room. All of the selections were lovely, and she noticed they all had a long slit up the skirt. She grinned. Whomever it was, they had great taste and knew how to have fun. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

–

Belle left her hair down and curled and donned a string of pearls and matching post earrings. If he had that kind of money, this client was classy.

She arrived at the theater and took stock of the bar. Having royally fucked up this situation before, she decided to stay in her position. He obviously knew who she was, so she left the finding up to him.

“Belle, hi. You look... stunning.” 

She startled at the familiar voice in her ear and wheeled around. "Shit!" she hissed. "Don’t do that to me, Casanova.” She looked him over, appreciating the fine cut and fabric of his suit, and then came to her senses. “What are you even doing here? I shouldn't be talking to you.” She turned away from him. “I'm waiting for my client.”

“Who is this Casanova? I don't know any Casanova.” He leaned down to her ear again. “My name is Carlos. Carlos Carlos, in fact, and I distinctly remember reserving the evening with Belle.”

Her jaw dropped and she looked at him over her shoulder. “Y-you’re my client?”

“Is that a problem?” He sipped from his glass.

“I suppose not.”

“Good. Champagne?” He held out her glass.

“I never drink on the job.”

“Suit yourself.”

She turned towards him, the light in her eyes more guarded. “Why did you book me?”

He shrugged. “I've enjoyed your company, so I thought I'd repay the favor.”

“But you’ve spent way more on me than I've given you. That’s hardly fair.”

“It’s no problem. I’m very good at my job.”

She searched his eyes. “This isn't a date, is it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What would give you that idea?”

 _Shit._ She was in trouble.

“Belle, it’s a booking. I wanted to take a lady out on the town, so I hired you. You’re on the clock. Consider this another appointment, yeah?”

She took the glass from his hand anyway, but didn’t sip. “Alright.”

“It doesn't need to be weird. Would you feel better if we went to our box?”

Her eyes traveled the room again. “Yes.”

He offered his arm, which she took. “By the way, I love the choice you made. Really, I meant what I said.”

She briefly regarded the fabric. “Thanks. You have good taste. Your tux isn't so bad, either.”

“I’m Italian. Runs in my blood.”

 _“Naturellement,”_ she quipped.

He hummed and his lips formed a smile.

She looked around the box, the one highest and furthest from the stage, stroking the upholstered armrest of her chair. “This is nice. Great view. I’ve never been in this one before.”

“The owner owed me a favor.” 

She looked over her program. “And what’s on? _Preview night,”_ she read. 

“I know you don’t like these, and you’ve probably seen them all, so I figured a bit of variety wouldn’t hurt. They’ve selected scenes from each of their upcoming shows this season.” 

“Italian themed, I see. _Barber of Seville, Madama Butterfly, Aida, Lucia di Lammermoor._ Oh, and _Don Giovanni._  Bit ironic, don’t you think?” She bit her lip playfully.

The corner of his lips turned up. “I am no Don Juan. Casanova was a completely different man.”

She took his arm and put her chin on his shoulder. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make this weird. It just threw me to see you outside of an appointment, or so I thought. I don’t like seeing other clients while I’m out.”

“I understand. I'm sorry I made it weird for you.” 

She shifted and cleared her throat, turning on her charm. “So… you’ve booked me. What can I do you for? What are you into?”

“You’ll find out later.”

“This’ll be interesting, you being the client.”

“You have no idea.”

She trailed a fingertip down his bicep. “What, are you extra kinky or something?”

He smirked. “You’ll find out.”

“I'll pull it out of you one way or another. It’s my job. I'm very good at it.”

“You’ll never guess.”

She leaned closer and brushed his ear with the tip of her nose. “Man of mystery. I like that.”

“Oh, Belle,” he chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re being seductive, you know that?” He turned his head to look at her out of the corner of his eye. “I think you may have met your match, though.”

She pulled away and pouted.

He laughed and laced his fingers through hers, brushing his lips over her knuckles as the overture began.

She fidgeted in her seat and sighed countless times during the first act. If she had been with anyone else, she would have kept it professional, but she was comfortable with him.

He rested his hand on her thigh, lightly stroking the fabric of her dress. “Belle, if you shift anymore, the box will fall away from the wall.”

“This is my least favorite type of booking.” A look flashed in her eyes briefly, but she blinked it away.

He wondered which of her demons plagued her at the moment, and he wanted nothing more than to chase it away. “I bet you won’t say that after I’m done with you.”

“Why?"

He leaned over and whispered, “Patience,” as he pushed her hair away from her neck, grazing her skin with his fingers. He watched her chest deliberately rise and fall.

She met his gaze, her eyes darting to his lips and back again. 

He ducked his head to gently kiss the side of her neck and trailed his lips along her jaw until he reached her chin. He brushed his bottom lip against hers and pulled back slightly.

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Not yet, though," he murmured.

"Tease."

He grinned cheekily and sat back in his seat.

She was more settled for the rest of the act, and they headed out to the bar during the intermission. She looked at him expectantly. “Are we leaving now?”

“Why would we leave?”

“It’s the intermission. Men always leave with their escorts at intermission.”

“I think you’ve forgotten, I'm Italian. Opera runs in my blood.”

She groaned. “Don't tell me you actually like opera.”

“You just haven't been with the right man at one of these. Come on. I'll get you to love it yet.”

She wrappers her arms around his waist. “Do we have to stay? I'd much rather skip to the fun part.”

“You’re on the clock, right?”

“Yes.”

He placed a hand in the small of her back. “Then I say, back to the box. The fun is just beginning." 

"What is that supposed to mean?" 

"You'll find out when we go back to the box."

She rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She fidgeted again once the second act started. She needed to push things along, so she leaned over to his ear. “I'm _booored,_ Carlos,” she purred, sliding her hand across his torso for the button of his jacket.

He was seemingly unfazed, but he didn’t stop her.

She circled her fingertip around one of the buttons of his shirt. “I normally don’t have to wait til the end of it for the sex.” 

He met her eyes and smirked.

“What?” she asked. The longer he held her gaze, breaking it once to briefly glance at her lips, the more her amusement melted from her expression. He leaned in closer, as he’d done earlier.

She gently grasped his lapel. “Don’t...” 

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t tease me.” 

Something in him broke at her soft pleading. 

This had stepped beyond a fun night at the opera. No, the moment had turned far more intimate than either of them had intended. 

How incredibly convenient, as the moment he’d planned for had nearly arrived. The theater was silent as the scene from _Don Giovanni_ reached _La ci darem la mano,_  the audience enjoying the sexual tension between the lothario and his current conquest, but it mattered little to the pair in the box. All else had faded to the background.

He waited for the recitative to begin before brushing the spot behind her ear with the tip of his nose. “Who said we had to leave?” He smirked when her jaw dropped and leaned in again to kiss her quite passionately, taking full advantage of her parted lips. Finding the fabric of her slit, he caressed her thigh and slipped his fingers beneath her lacy knickers to see if she was wet enough. _Christ,_ she was gloriously hot and slick and keening at his touch. “Come on, Belle,” he rumbled, and he pinned her to the wall behind their seats, drawing the curtain slightly so they’d be shielded from view of the other patrons.

She licked her lips, staring at him lustfully, as she opened his trousers and took him in hand. In no time she had readied the rubber and hitched her leg up around him.

“You’re good at that, you know? Nice technique,” he commented, not even breaking character as she handled him, though his grip on her hip might have told a different story.

She would have replied but for her gasp when he thrust inside of her.

He needed to get the timing just right... and he was driven by a need to feel close to her, so he gripped her arse and ground into her. He kissed the column of her throat, laved her sensitive areas with his tongue (he’d already memorized them, he realized), ducked his head to ravish the swell of her breasts, and nipped at her earlobe. They kept it as quiet as they could, but that was challenged as he continued pressing her into the wall. The threat and thrill of the other patrons hearing was a huge turn-on.

And just as the duet swelled to its climax at the end, she clenched around him and he chased her release with his own.

Once they’d caught their breath, their eyes met and they giggled and kissed as the audience cheered for the performers on stage.

She spoke first as he adjusted his trousers. “Are you even real? Part of me thinks if I blink you’ll disappear.”

He stepped up to her and ran his hands down her arms, lacing their fingers together. “We could, I don’t know, head to the hotel and I can answer that question for you.” 

“You don’t want to see the rest of it?”

“What?”

“The show.” She raised an eyebrow. "You must have enjoyed that.”

“Thoroughly, and no, we don’t need to see the rest of it.”

She touched her hand to his chest. “That was the best time I’ve ever had.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” He smiled warmly.

Snaking her arms around his neck, she pulled him down in another heated kiss, catching his bottom lip in her teeth as she broke away from him. "You'd better get me to the hotel quickly. I don't want to be so quiet on the next round." 

He knew he was done for.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos wants a call-in for a cooking night at his flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit long, this chapter! But it's _molto importante._ Some fun smuts included.

“Mr. Carlos called again.”

Belle inhaled sharply. “He did?”

“Says he wants a call in at his flat, couple of hours.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, at six. He said you’d know where it is.”

It’d been a month since she'd seen or spoken to him.

\--

_Had she really just done all that?_

_Yeah, she’d fucked a man_ at _the opera, but that wasn’t it. Neither was it the time they spent after at the hotel._

 _She’d_ forgotten _about Ben and Harry and that whole mess while she was with him. She should have been wallowing in self-pity and punishment, but she hadn’t. She’d_ enjoyed _herself._

_This man was thrilling, which had been the appeal of Harry, and he was the boy next door, like Ben. He couldn’t possibly be this perfect. The other shoe would drop sometime._

_Or her shoe would drop._

_Might as well save them both the trouble and stay away from him, or she’d fuck this up, too._

_Never cross the line._

\--

Since then, she’d been throwing herself at her work to forget about everything. After all, it was comforting and nearly the only thing in life she was good at.

“So will you take it?”

“What?”

“Do you want the appointment with Mr. Carlos?”

She shouldn’t. Everything within her screamed to run the other way. “Sure.”

\--

At six on the dot, she rang up to his flat.

“‘lo?”

“Hello, Carlos.” She waved a little at the camera.

“Belle, come right up.”

She was stiff when she stepped off the lift, like her heart was frozen, but her body kept moving anyway. Hoping he wouldn’t hear, she knocked softly on his door.

He opened it right away and grinned. “Belle.”

Some of her apprehension melted at the sight of him, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Hi.” She fiddled with the fabric of her periwinkle knee-length dress.

“Come in, please?” He stepped back.

“Yeah,” she said softly as he closed the door behind her. She took the waiting envelope and slipped it in her bag. “Thanks.”

“I hope you don’t mind. I thought we’d cook dinner in tonight.”

“Oh. What, then?”

“I make a mean gnocchi.”

“I have to warn you, I’m a shit cook. Not complete shit, mind you, but certainly not the best.”

“No worries.” He stepped up to her, a sultry gleam in his eye. “I’m _very_ good.”

She bit her lip. “You’re not talking about the cooking, are you?”

“I’m good at many things, Belle.” He walked towards the kitchen, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets. “Come on. I’ve already made a Tesco run, and I’m hungry.”

“In more ways than one?” The banter, the familiar ease of flirting with him, helped calm her nerves even further.

He turned and took a few steps backwards, a little smirk playing on his lips. “Always.”

She warmed at the promise dripping in his voice. Oh, he was fun, wasn’t he? She could put her reservations aside for a night.

She admired his black granite countertops and modern stainless steel appliances. “Nice digs. You really do have great taste.” She also appreciated that he’d set out everything they needed already.

“Thanks. Over here, please.” He patted the counter next to him, near the stove top. “Put the potatoes in and cover them with some water in that pot. We’re boiling them first, skin on.”

“Easy enough. Even I can’t mess that up.”

He busied himself with pouring a glass of wine. “And we’ll have to wait twenty minutes or so once the water is boiling. We’ll cover the pot and simmer it for that long.”

“Twenty minutes is a long time, Carlos,” she said as she worked.

“I know.”

She shivered at the whisper in her ear from behind.

He reached around her for the pot and put it on the cooktop. “I know you don’t drink on the job, but if you change your mind, there’s a glass for you.”

“Maybe later.”

“Nibbles? I’ve got some prosciutto and cheese.” He nodded to the plate on the island.

“You would. You’re Italian.”

He laughed. “You know me so well.”

“It’s my job to remember my clients.”

“And you’re good at it. I can also do some caprese salad if you’re up for it.”

“Thanks.” She popped one of the prosciutto-wrapped cheeses into her mouth. “I think I do want some of that caprese, if you don’t mind.”

He grinned and went to open his fridge. “Not at all. Watch that pot, and when it boils, cover it and turn down the heat.”

“Got it.” She leaned on the island while he stood on the opposite side and sliced the tomatoes and pulled apart the mozzarella. More specifically, watched his slender, nimble fingers, and all she could do was imagine what those fingers would do to her later.

The stove hissed behind her. She wheeled around in horror to see the pot bubbling over.

“It’s alright. I got it.” He jogged over and tended to the stove. When he turned around, Belle was rubbing her forehead and her eyes were on the ground. “Hey, it’s alright.”

“God, I can’t even the simplest things straight.”

“Belle, it’s alright.”

Tears threatened to spill over. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled gently and pulled her to himself, resting his chin on her hair. “What have you been doing for the last month?”

“Working.”

“Anything else?”

She exhaled. “No.”

“No spending time with friends?”

“I have no friends. Ben was the only friend I had.”

“Any other friends?”

She sniffed. “Bambi, I suppose.”

“Who’s she? I'm assuming Bambi is a she, but one can’t assume these days.”

She huffed out a small laugh. “She’s another escort, or was. She married a Baron. Haven’t heard from her since.”

“You’ve got to find some time to unwind, be human. You can’t ignore everything.”

How many times had she heard that before? “But it hurts.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Belle?”

“Yes?”

“Were you distracted?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Were you distracted when you should have been pot-watching?”

“No.”

“I think you were distracted.”

She clutched his jumper to hide her blush. “I wasn’t!”

“I’ve been told how distracting my hands are. It’s perfectly normal if you were.”

She groaned.

“Nothing to be ashamed about. Would you feel better if I used my very distracting hands on you later?”

“Maybe.”

He chuckled. “Are you interested in that glass of wine?”

“Yeah.”

“Go pick something from the cooler over there. Anything you want, alright?” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’m going to finish this salad. I wasn’t lying earlier. I am hungry. And I plan on working up an appetite later.”

“You’re so sure?”

“Absolutely.” He moved the salad to the side of the island near the stove, where she’d been standing before.

“I’ll have you know, _Carlos,”_ she said, bumping his hip with hers,  “I am not so easy.”

“Well, that’s a shame.”

“Why?”

“Because I am.”

She gazed up at him and found no insincerity in him, and it stole her breath for a moment. However, she couldn’t let him have the upperhand. “Well, then, you’re just going to have to work for it.”

“Challenge accepted.” He flipped the bottle of olive oil and caught it without looking.

All she could do was gape as he drizzled the oil and cracked salt and pepper over the dish. She was confused at how a man could make such a simple task so incredibly sexy. He just… exuded sex. And, even worse, he knew it. The nail in the coffin was his lack of machismo. He knew the strength of tenderness, how powerful it was and how to to leverage it.

He popped a tomato in his mouth. “Distracted again?”

Her eyes fell to her feet. “No.”

“Could have fooled me.” He turned around to the stove and lifted the lid on the pot. “I asked you to check the potatoes.”

She leaned on the island. “Yeah, well… I was just wondering why you didn’t put any balsamic on this.”

He emptied the pot into a colander. “Taste it for yourself. Doesn’t need it.”

“They do everywhere else I’ve eaten it.”

“Then you’ve been eating at shitty restaurants. Who are these clients taking you out? Clearly you need a better vetting process.”

“I’m sorry they don’t meet your standards.”

He framed her from behind with his hands on the granite. “Me, too.”

She yelped.

“You like it?”

“What?”

“The salad. Did you even try it?”

“No,” she said softly.

“Well.” He picked up a slice of tomato. “Here.” He lifted it to her lips. “Isn’t it good?”

She swallowed deliberately, took a sip of her wine, and turned slowly. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug expression off his face, so she grabbed his jumper and pulled him down for a kiss. “Smart arse.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “I’m only getting started. Stick around and I’ll work you up even more.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Do you want it to be?” he asked softly.

Again, just like he’d done the night of the opera, he was no longer holding Belle, but Hannah. How did he have this ability to draw her out? How was he able to shatter the imaginary boundaries she’d set up for herself?

And yet, her world wasn’t falling apart. He wasn’t demanding anything of her. He was simply offering comfort and a good night.

Was it so bad to want that for an evening? Was it so bad to want acceptance? She didn’t deserve it at all, but it felt so _good._ She couldn’t do anything but kiss him again, and she gasped when he pivoted her away from the island and tilted her back, drawing up her thigh.

He laughed against her lips. “I think the potatoes have cooled by now.”

“Alright.” But she wouldn’t let him go.

“We should get working on that.”

“Okay,” she breathed, peppering his jaw with her lips.

“Or not. Not is okay, too.”

She giggled. “Nah, you could stand to eat a few potatoes anyway.” She patted his stomach as she dislodged herself from his arms.

“Who’s teasing now?”

“Turnabout is fair play.”

“We’ll see.” He started peeling the potatoes. “You can halve these and put them through the ricer, if you don’t mind.”

They worked in companionable silence, and when she was finished, he set the bowl of potatoes on the island and reached for a wooden board, sprinkling some flour on it.

“What are you gonna do with that? Flour and eggs, right?”

He reached over and pulled her to stand in front of him. _“We_ are going to mix this with flour and an egg and some salt, and then we’ll knead it all together.”

“Alright.”

He dumped the potatoes onto the board. “Pour that measuring cup of flour over it and make a well in the middle.” When she did, he cracked an egg with one hand.

“I’ve always been jealous of people who can do that.”

“Just takes practice is all. Sort of whisk it together with this fork, and then start incorporating some of the potato and flour.” He reached around her and began working with the dough. “Not too much, though. Wouldn’t want the gnocchi to get too…” He brushed her ear with his nose. “Hard.”

She watched him push and fold the dough gently. “Wouldn’t mind that about other things.”

“Of course.”

“Wouldn’t mind you kneading other things, either.”

“I’ll have to massage you sometime,” he noted.

She closed her eyes and inhaled. “Yes, please.”

He finished shaping the dough into a horizontal rectangle and cut into it vertically, creating smaller blocks. “We’re going to roll these into strips, and then we’ll cut them into pieces.” He demonstrated rolling one of the strips across the board. “Why don’t you give it a try?”

She picked up one of the blocks and began rolling it. “Gently, because we don’t want to get it hard, right?”

“Exactly. And you’re not too bad with your hands yourself, Belle.” He slid a hand across her stomach.

“That’s why all the boys pay me.”

He pulled her closer against him, resting his chin on her shoulder. “No wonder their wives have been coming to see me.”

She laughed. “I’ll keep you in business, alright? If you keep me in mine.”

“Deal. I’ve got to get a pot boiling and the sauce started. Just cut the strips into little squares, about an inch.” He kissed her cheek and backed away away. “When you’re done, just give them a good roll down the tines of a fork for the grooves.”

After a few moments, he came to check on her. “Nice work.” Reaching around her, he took the fork from her hand and took over pressing the gnocchi into the tines.

“No need to show off. I already know you’re good with your thumb.”

He laughed. “I can show you again later.”

“Please do. I quite like the little ribs on the gnocchi.”

“Enhances the pleasure of the sauce.”

“What’s in that, by the way? Smells great.”

“Butter and sage. Classic.”

“I’m surprised there’s no garlic. Couldn’t smell it of course.”

“We’re not on a garlic level of intimacy yet.”

“Very considerate of you.”

“I try. Just give them another roll around in the flour, sift them, and bring half over here on the baking sheet.”

“Why only half? Too much to eat, of course.”

“I’m going to freeze the rest and save it for later.”

How… _normal_ of him, she thought. She was struck by how avereage all of this was, like they did this regularly. How easy it was to just simply _be_ with him.

“You gonna bring those over here or not?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s no problem.” He took the sheet from her. “Would you mind putting the extra on this sheet and into the freezer?”

“No.” After she finished, she moved the wooden board and hopped up on the counter, sipping her wine and watching him plate both servings.

“Now that’s finished…” He stepped up to her and parted her knees, gripping her waist and kissing her.

She immediately wrapped her legs around him and threaded her fingers through his luscious hair, smiling at the moan she earned.

Passion gave way after a moment to lazy, lingering passes of lips and tongue. God, she loved kissing him.

“More later?” he asked.

She grinned and hummed. “Definitely.”

They lightly bantered while they ate on the sofa. After they finished, he leaned on the arm and she sat between his legs, her back against his chest. She revealed she went to uni for English, so they talked literature for a while. They veered into poetry, she asked him if he had a favorite.

“Ehm, sure. Can’t go wrong with a little Shakespeare, yeah?”

“Never.”

“Do you know Sonnet 75?”

“Not in particular, no.”

“Ah, well.” He slid his hand down her arm. _“So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground; And for the peace of you I hold such strife, As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found.”_ He laced his fingers with hers. _“Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon, Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure; Now counting best to be with you alone, Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure.”_ He pressed his lips to the spot just behind her ear. _“Sometime all full with feasting on your sight, And by and by clean starved for a look; Possessing or pursuing no delight, Save what is had, or must from you be took.”_

She craned her neck to look at him as he finished the last two lines.

_“Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, Or gluttoning on all, or all away.”_

Her heart stuttered as she searched his eyes.

“It’s about missing someone.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, it is. Perhaps a little excessively at times.” He half-smiled. “Among other things, but that’s what I pull from it in this particular moment.”

“Oh.” She settled back on his chest again. “I’m surprised you didn’t recite anything Italian.”

“You’d like to hear something in Italian?”

“I would.”

 _“Molto bene.”_ He pushed her lightly so he could stand.

Her jaw dropped slightly in a silent question, which was answered when he quickly scooped her up and carried her to his bed.

“Now comes the fun part,” he remarked, dropping her onto the mattress. He pulled off his shirt and leaned over her on his hands and knees. _“Non siamo estranei all'amore, conosci le regole e anch'io.”_ He caressed her thighs beneath her skirt. _“Un pieno impegno è quello che ci sto pensando.”_ When he reached her knickers, he pulled them off. _“Non lo riceveresti da ogni altro uomo.”_ He gave her one last heated gaze before he ducked his head between her legs. _“Voglio solo dirti come mi sento, devo farti comprendere.”_

She thought his Italian was hot as hell murmured against her sensitive skin, and she whimpered as he kissed her where she throbbed at the apex of her thighs.

_“Non ti rinuncerò mai, non ti deluderò mai, non girerò mai né ti diserterò.”_

She gasped as his tongue trailed from her entrance to her clit and swirled around it.

_“Non ti farò piangere, non ti dirò addio, non ti mentirò né ti farò male.”_

She fisted her hand in his hair as he drove her over the edge.

Grinning, he leaned over her again. “Was that Italian enough for you?”

She sat up slightly and devoured his mouth. “Fuck me.”

“Alright.”

She fumbled for the button of his jeans. “Now.”

“Once? Or…”

She stopped and met his eyes.

“Okay, more than.”

“I liked you better when you spoke Italian.”

He nodded at the nightstand as he stood and removed the remaining offending garments. _“Goldone.”_

“What?”

“Slang for condom. Grab a few, please.”

\--

He lightly traced circles into her side with his thumb as he pillowed his head on her chest. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “‘Bout time to finish putting away that leftover gnocchi in the freezer. I’ll be back.”

The clock... she stared at it.

She’d avoided checking it earlier when he’d stepped into the bathroom briefly to clean himself and to put on some pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt.

Now it was time for her to leave. He was conveniently busy, so she slipped on her bra and knickers and pulled her dress over her head. She walked to the sofa where her bag was and glanced in it to make sure she had everything.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Yeah, it’s time.” She slung her bag onto her shoulder.

“Oh. Okay.”

She smiled lightly. “Thanks. It was a good night.”

“It was.”

“I’ll just be going, then.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

“See ya.” She walked out the door.

A pit formed in her stomach as she made her way to the lift. Unlike the first time she’d met him again, she _wanted_ to stay, and that was exactly why she needed to leave.

Part of her was disappointed he hadn’t offered to let her stay, but she’d run out on him the last time. She couldn’t really blame him. She’d drawn a line in the past, and he was respecting it.

“Belle, wait.”

She turned. “Yes?”

He’d caught the door and was holding it open. “Can I see you again next week? Would that be alright?”

Should she? Wasn’t that why she was walking away?

“I…” He carded his fingers through his hair and swallowed. “I don’t want to wait another month before seeing you again. And before you say no, I know that might scare you—”

She swallowed. “I can’t—I can’t do this boyfriend thing again.”

“I’m not asking for this to be a boyfriend thing.”

“Then what is it?” she asked softly.

He stuck the latch in the door so it wouldn’t close all the way, and then he walked up to her. “I enjoy your company, and if I’m not mistaken, you enjoy mine. At least the sex. You seem to enjoy that a lot, or I am terrible at my job and you’re one hell of an actor.”

She blushed.

“What if you call me?”

“What if you have a client?”

“It won’t be a problem anyway, but let’s say I keep my weekends open. I’ll shuffle things around a bit. If you have some free time, if you’re up for it, you call me. If not, I’ll completely understand.”

Her mouth opened and shut. She inhaled. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Because you’re worth it.”

She glanced away. “I’m not, though.”

“Why not let me decide that?”

“Everyone else thought I was, too.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not everyone else, and fuck them if they think you aren’t. You’re good at your job, and that’s all you’ve ever been guilty of. Not your fault if your… I’ll keep it polite, ex wasn’t able to respect or handle that. You need time to believe in yourself again. I don’t mean Belle. _You.”_

Tears threatened her for the second time that night.

“Aw, come on, Belle. I can’t stand to see you cry.” He pulled her back inside.

She turned away from him. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not, and you’re not going home like this. You’re staying with me tonight.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” He circled round in front of her and hoisted her over his shoulder. She protested the whole time until he deposited her on the bed, and then he walked to a closet.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you stay this time. I think I’ve finally figured it out.” He opened a safe and counted out a wad of bills. “Enough for you to stay until ten tomorrow. Then I can feed you breakfast, and if you want to leave before then, fine, but not before breakfast. I make great crepes.” He walked to his sofa and stuffed the notes in her bag.

“Crepes are French.”

He shrugged and made his way back to the bed. “Belle is French.”

“But you’re Italian.”

He laid back on his pillow, his fingers laced together behind his head. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I can’t because you make a point to say it every time we’ve been together, every hour on the hour like the weather.”

“Checking the forecast… yep, still Italian.”

She curled into his side. “How are you so… good at this? I don’t mean the sex. I mean, you’re good at that, too.”

He chuckled. “I’ve been doing this for a while. And I’m someone who’s not been in your life, so I can see things objectively. Well, mostly objectively, but the point is sometimes you need an extra set of eyes.” He paused. “My madame, when I had one, taught me how to listen. That skill has been far more valuable than any performance I've given in bed. I have women who’ve been seeing me for years, and we don't even shag every time. Have you found that to be true for you?”

“Yeah. Most of what I do is sex, fulfilling a fantasy, and it’s fun. Escapism, basically. Kinky escapism.” She laughed. “The regulars are the ones you get to know well, of course. But they come to see me to get away from their lives. I suppose it’s the same, maybe in a different way. And maybe not so different sometimes?” She smiled.

“Oh, yes, I get kinky ones, too. Even the occasional man. I don't discriminate. Give me a hole and I'll stick something in it.”

She snorted. “There’s certainly enough of you to go around.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.” He winked.

She settled her head on his chest again. “Everyone has a kink, though. Just a matter of poking around until you find it.”

“That’s true. Really, at the end of it all, I suppose people want to be understood.” His mobile vibrated on his nightstand and he reached for it. “‘Scuse me, Belle. Lemme take this real quick, my mate.” He bounded out of the bed and into the kitchen.

She didn’t pay attention to his conversation. It was none of her business anyway. She was too overwhelmed at the thought of what he’d done, how he’d gotten her cash for the extra time without even thinking. He had no intention of taking advantage of her, not that she thought he would, but he was completely professional about him hiring her earlier in the evening.

“Belle?”

“Hmm?”

“The shower’s yours. I can give you a shirt if you want to sleep in something different.”

Nor was he intending to have his way with her again. He’d just wanted to make sure she was alright for the night. He was completely, utterly selfless. In fact, every time they’d been together, he’d given to her, never expecting or asking for anything in return, even when he’d been the one to hire her. The balance was grossly unfair at the moment, and he always seemed to have the upperhand. As good as it felt to be serviced by someone else for a change, he hadn’t given her the chance to do the same.

She needed to rectify that.

She offered, “Yeah. What if you joined me?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Alright.” He pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it in a corner.

“Not yet, though.” She beckoned him with her index finger and her ‘come hither’ eyes. “Come here.” When he stepped up to the bed, she stood up on her knees and draped her arms around his neck and kissed him for a moment. She moved her hands to caress his chest and his back, her hands sweeping lower until she reached his arse and gave him a good squeeze. She snapped the elastic of his pyjamas. “Off.”

“Alright.” He pushed them down and kicked them off behind him.

“Lie down.” When he did, she straddled his hips and kissed him again. Her lips traveled over his jaw, his throat, down his sternum.

“I’ve got... more rubbers in the night stand.”

“Won’t be needing one.”

His eyes flew open and he nearly knocked her in the head when he tried to sit up.

She put a hand on his chest. “Not like that.” A grin crossed her lips. “I’m not stupid. Your concern is adorable, though.”

He blinked, understanding slowly creeping over his expression.

Her hand slid down his torso until she reached his patch of curls, and she lightly scratched her fingers through them.

“Belle, y-you don’t have to.”

“I know. I want to.” She paused as he closed his eyes and sighed, in relief or regret at what was about to happen, she couldn't discern. “You should know, since you seem to be so keen on making sure I'm fulfilled, it’s no fun for me if you get to take the lead all the time. After all, I'm a professional in my own right.”

He swallowed and laid back. “Noted. And I wholeheartedly agree.”

“Otherwise, it feels like you’re trying to rescue me, and I'm not a damsel in distress.”

He lifted his head, looking horrified. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn't mean–”

She giggled. “It’s alright. Just for future reference. If you’re my client, it wouldn't feel right if our time ended and I haven't made sure you’re satisfied as well. So, let me do this for you?”

He nodded and laid back again.

“Good.” She slid down his body until she settled between his legs.

She rather enjoyed watching him come undone at her hand and mouth. After all, as she’d said earlier in the evening, turnabout is fair play. He was normally so in control, well-practiced, suave, so to see this side of him, all desperate and gasping her name and brows furrowed at the intense pleasure and head thrown back in climax, was endearing, as was the full-on snog he gave her in return. He certainly seemed to enjoy tasting himself on her tongue.

They stepped into the shower together. She washed his backside as he took care of his front. “I think it’s been quite some time since you’ve let anybody take care of you.”

“We’re both too in love with our work. Knowing I’m helping my clients is satisfactory enough.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind taking care of my clients at all, even my regulars. I love it, but every now and again I get one who knows how to give just as good as he gets.”

“Do you happen to have… I don’t know, a favorite?”

She grinned. “Fishing for compliments, are we?”

“Damn. I must not be trying hard enough.”

“You get hard enough, trust me.” She lightly smacked his bum.

“Oh, good,” he squeaked and cleared his throat. “Good to know.”

“But I definitely wouldn’t treat my own sex life the same way.”

“No, of course not.” He turned and twirled his finger so she’d do the same.

“Do you even have a sex life outside of work?”

“Used to. Occasionally. I've mellowed out a bit in my ripe old age.” He began working gently on a knot in her shoulder.

“Oh,” she gasped lightly at the brief pain. “You’re not old. What, late thirties?”

“Yep.” After a moment, he offered, “Occasionally I’ll hit up a pub to see if I’ve still got it, being able to seduce without getting paid for it.”

She looked over her shoulder. “Are you kidding me?”

Amusement lit up his eyes. “What?”

“You’d walk into a room full of women and it’s Niagara Falls.”

“Also good to know.”

She hissed as he found another knot on the other side.

After she had relaxed enough, he shut off the water and reached for a towel. “Ehm, back to our conversation from earlier, one other reason I get it is because I understand the secret identity thing, almost like we’re superheroes.”

“Sexy superheroes. I like it.” She wrapped a towel around her torso after drying herself and stood at his bathroom counter. “I’d look great in spandex, don’t you think?” She bit her lip and tilted her head, gazing at him in the mirror.

He ogled her form before he spoke. “Stay here. Anything you need, it’s in my cabinet. I should have grabbed a shirt for you before we stepped in.”

“To be fair, you were a bit distracted.”

“Yeah, I was,” he said from the other room.

“Can you grab the spare knickers from my bag?”

He returned while she brushed her teeth, setting the items in question on the counter and leaning on the partition behind him. “My name’s Giac by the way, short for Giacomo. You can call me Giac. If you want. Carlos is something stupid I made up, really.”

She smiled at his timid babbling. “How Italian.”

“You don’t have to tell me yours.”

“I can’t cross that line,” she lied. She’d done so several times with him already, and she had a feeling he knew. Her keeping her name from him was symbolic, she resolved.

“I understand. It’s difficult to keep the balance sometimes.”

“It is. I suppose that’s been my problem, keeping Belle and I separate.” She rattled off, “And never the twain shall meet.”

“No. You just need someone to understand.”

Her eyes met his reflection.

“And I don't mean a boyfriend. People in general, friends, I mean. We all need people who love and accept us and give us space to be who we are. Bambi, you mentioned. Did she ever make demands you couldn't fulfill?”

“No. And I'm not sure what she’s up to these days.”

“You should call her. Catch up.”

“I guess I lost track of her when Stephanie thrust the business and her daughter on me.”

“Exactly. You weren't counting on all that mess.”

“If she hadn't done that, then maybe…”

“If Ben couldn't handle you at your worst, he didn't deserve you at your best. Cliche, I know, but for him to demand you give up your life—I don't know how he knew what you do and still treated you like that. It’s not your fault.”

She looked down and nodded. Everything had gotten out of hand at once. All of the aforementioned… and then Harry, who’d come out of left field. She still hadn't told him about Harry. She wanted to ignore it had even happened.

But she couldn't. Harry had been the last straw for Ben. She’d only kept it from him because she never would have chosen Harry over him.

What would he, the man leaning on the wall behind her, think of her then? She’d tell him tomorrow. Get it out of the way, let him down now.

“The point I'm trying to make is, none of us can exist on our own. I'm not saying this to patronize you, I hope you know. You shouldn’t isolate yourself because you made a few mistakes. Whatever punishment you’ve assigned to yourself, you don't deserve it. Learn from it and move on as best you can.”

She fiddled with her toothbrush.

“Even I’ve made a few mistakes along the way, as hard as that might be to believe.”

She smiled at his shit-eating grin. “So who’s your mate?”

“My mate, Rocco. He’s my person, met him at uni when I went for a business degree. We were thick as thieves for awhile.” He tugged on his ear. “He, ehm, wanted to get lunch tomorrow. You’re more than invited, if you want.”

She thought for a moment. “Nah. I have a few things to do.” She headed back out to the bed and laid on her side away from him beneath the blanket.

The mattress dipped behind her. “Call me if you change your mind. Can I spoon you?”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Yeah.” The warmth of his chest against her back, the gentle rise and fall as he breathed, was comforting. “Thank you, Giac,” she mumbled.

He hummed and kissed the back of her neck.


End file.
